Center of Attention
by Orohime
Summary: In a school with less than 100 students between Kindergarten and 12th grade a new face is a really, really big deal. Gaaracentric. Oneshot. Mature content.


In a small town a new face was notable. In a town tiny enough that the school was smaller than half a city block and held only 84 students from kindergarten to 12th grade, a new face was huge. Among the 19 kids in high-school, having a stranger in their midst was all anyone could concentrate on for weeks. Especially since it was a girl. There had been 8 girls to 11 boys before. And since she was a sophomore she was pretty much fair game for anyone from freshman to senior.

And she was hot. As cliché as it was that was the best way to describe her. She was walking sex. She had an athletic body, long and lean, with small but perky breasts. A slender waist with generous hips, and the kind of ass that had boys begging the wind to lift her uniform's skirt, just a little, so they could have a peek at those tight cheeks. Her hair was platinum blonde, shining almost white in the right light. Her eyes were pools of violet the color of an iris' petal framed by thick lashes and topped by graceful arches of eyebrows. She had perfect ivory skin and her features were classically cute, like Reese Witherspoon, or Cameron Diaz.

Every boy in high school was eyeing her, wondering if he was her type, and fantasizing about her in their private moments late at night when they were supposed to be studying, or in the shower in the morning. Every girl in high school was eyeing her, wondering if she was hotter than herself, thinking she must be easy if she was so pretty, and why were the boys all checking her out? She wasn't so hot. Bitch.

Despite her overabundance of attractiveness, no boy had yet dared approach her. Her personality didn't help them out at all. She had an 'I don't give a fuck what you think' sort of attitude, and in such a small school where everyone knew everyone and approval from the popular kids meant everything, that kind of attitude was alien. She wore her hair less than two inches long, like a boy's, instead of long and elaborately styled. She wore neon green nail polish, turquoise eyeliner and had died her bangs a blue-green. She was great at sports and already was showing top scores whenever her class was tested. And she was an artist, always scribbling some little doodle in the corner of her notes in class.

She was beautiful, athletic, artistic, smart, talented, original and rebellious. In short she was intimidating as hell to a small town boy. But they all wanted her, took any excuse just to look at her.

That was why he found himself here tonight. It was Christmas. There was a dance, of course. No one had asked him, of course, nor had he asked anyone. He was an outcast, the only Goth kid in the entire town. He liked it that way, didn't want people's approval, delighted in pissing them off and freaking them out. He despised dances and rarely showed up. But he came to this one, because she was here. He hated popular, beautiful people. Still he was drawn to her as much as everyone else was.

She was on the dance floor, gyrating to the latest Black-eyed Peas hit, the only person with the guts to dance at all, much less alone. She paid no attention to those watching. Most of the time when a girl got out there and danced like that, she knew she was being hot, and kept looking at those who she most wanted to notice her. Not this girl. Her eyes were half-closed and far away, and she appeared lost in the rapid bass rhythm pounding through the small gym that served as their impromptu dance hall.

The boys that lined the walls wanted to join, every one of them. He could see it in the way they stared, the way they made abortive motions toward the floor, as though they were trying to walk out there but their legs refused to move. Pretty-boy Sasuke, who always seemed too cool for anyone, was leaning quietly in the shadows, eyes wide as he stared at her. Neji, so clean-cut and perfect with his grades, seemed nervous and out of sorts. Even the over-confident jock types like Kiba and Kankuro were frozen in place. Sakura and Ino, who were normally at each other's throats in stiff competition to be alpha female in the school, were for the moment united in their icy glare.

The song ended, she stopped dancing. He swore he heard a collective sigh from every mouth in the room, including his own. Damp with sweat and panting lightly, she went to the refreshment table. It was a testament to her power that no one had tried to spike the punch yet. They were far to busy staring at her.

She poured herself a glass and downed it quickly. Shino, who happened to be standing right next to the spot she had chosen to stand, began visibly working up his courage. He fidgeted, bit his lip and finally turned to say something, but to his obvious dismay, she had already moved away.

She was striding slowly in a wide arch around the dance floor, looking at the people lined against the walls as though sizing up livestock. He could see hope flare as she approached each person, only to die as her disinterested gaze slid off them. She was looking for someone specific in the dark room.

His amusement grew as he saw the same crest fallen expression grace each popular face. Neji, Sasuke, Shikamaru, even pretty Haku, all shot down without a word being spoken. He was still smirking a bit evilly when she came even with him. He was prepared for her to walk past him. No disappointment would touch his face for the entire world to see. He already knew she would have no interest in him, had already suppressed the regret. So when she looked right in his eyes and spoke he was caught completely off guard.

"Don't look so hostile, Gaara," she said with a small smile. The shock must have been plain on his face, for her smile widened slightly. "Nice spikes, by the way."

Was she talking to him? She had to be. No one else in the entire town wore spikes. And she knew his name! Of course she knew his name, she been introduced to everyone when she'd first arrived two weeks ago. The surprising thing was that she had remembered it. He stared at her a bit blankly, unsure of what to say to a goddess when she decided to step down from heaven and pay him a compliment.

"Not much for conversation are we?" she asked, then shrugged and grabbed him by the wrist. "We'll just let your body do the talking eh?" Before he knew what was happening she had pulled him to the dance floor. He became acutely aware that he was suddenly the target of 10 envious and incredulous gazes. She pulled him close and began to slowly sway to the music. He thanked his lucky stars the he had good rhythm, or this would be an embarrassing experience. He felt acutely self-conscious, which wasn't really odd for him. When everything about you, from your manner of dress to wearing thick black eyeliner was designed to draw negative attention from those around you, you always felt a bit self-couscous. So somehow he managed to adapt to the situation, even though a wet dream was suddenly rubbing her body against his in an exhibitionist situation.

The hostility was almost palpable as the song ended and the next began and she made no move to stop dancing with him. He felt smug, as he saw people lean close to each other and whisper what were almost certainly insults. The song was exquisitely appropriate.

"I see your lips movin',

but they ain't saying nothin',

everybody's talkin'

like they really know somethin' 'bout us,

but they don't know nothin' 'bout us…"

He was past any discomfort he might have felt. This was what he lived for. _Hate me, you preppy bastards,_ he thought_. I love it! Watch me grind on this desirable female, wish you were me and hate me for it!_

He courted their disfavor further, sliding his hands down her sides to cradle those smokin' hips, risking getting slapped and curving the tips of his fingers along the bottom curve of her ass. He glanced at her to see how she reacted to this.

Her eyes and smirk looked amused and she leaned her forehead against his, one hand sliding down his fishnet encased arm to lace fingers and guide his hand further along its naughty path. The other hand snaked upward, tangling in his unruly red hair, bringing his face so close to hers that their mouths were centimeters apart. Her breath teased his lips and he felt desire rise fast and hard. He'd been so intent on everyone else's reaction he'd almost forgotten he was pressed against sex incarnate.

He felt himself harden, making his already tight leather pants even tighter. Her smirk widened as she felt it press against her thigh.

"About time," she muttered. The music was to loud for him to hear but he read the words on her lips easily enough. He felt himself blush and tried to think of a graceful way to back away before he lost any form of control and released in his pants.

Maybe there was a god and he was taking pity on him, or maybe he was just lucky, because one of the chaperones decided they were getting a little too friendly with each other and broke them up with strict orders that there was to be no more dirty dancing.

She took pity on him in a way. She kept dancing with him, far enough apart that the chaperone wasn't perturbed, close enough to hide his condition until it went away, sparing him the embarrassment of walking off the dance floor with an obvious erection. When they quit the dance floor, she sat next to him on a bench and asked him questions about himself. Gaara hated Christmas, but for once the season turned out merry for him. The hottest girl in school was interested in him, and he felt that his life might actually be enjoyable, for as long as it lasted.

Thanks for reading! Hope you like. I know it's a touch mary-sue, but I was going more for Gaara's gratification. Please review. Thanks again!

Wuv, Orohime


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